


Lascivious Luminescent

by Scripturience



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, M/M, Rainbow Drinkers, Sexual implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scripturience/pseuds/Scripturience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what the novels you enjoy in secret may have lead you to previously believe, having a Rainbowdrinker for a matesprit is, in fact, not all it's cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lascivious Luminescent

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this piece.](http://frostingflakes.tumblr.com/post/120328697156/cr0nusamp0r4-ugh-this-is-insanely-sketchy-but)  
>  Rating is cautious.

You don’t even flinch when a familiar blanched glow hits the corner of your eye. No, you don’t even so much as blink when a pair of arms slip over your shoulders, casually framing themselves over your chest and not so coincidentally blocking your view of your novel. And you certainly don’t shiver when you feel cool breath fanning against the unfortunately exposed skin of your neck.

No, this is all just routine for you, now. So much so, that you’ve given up on even trying to wear turtlenecks around the hive. It’s not like that ever deterred him, anyway.

And yet, despite all of this, despite the fact that you know _exactly_ what he wants, you are still not one to give in so easily.

Which is why you say nothing, keeping your gaze forward, even when he leans forward to nuzzle the all too _vulnerable_ crevice of your shoulder. You swallow thickly, but manage to stifle any further outward reactions. But even despite your best efforts, you can nearly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat when his lips graze your barred skin.

“Vwatcha ya readin, doll?” His tone sends a shiver down your spine, prompting you to bite down on your lip in a desperate effort to hold yourself together.

You positively _loathe_ when he gets like this. Both of you know exactly what’s going on here, and yet he still feels the need to toy with you. But no, of course he can’t ask outright. He knows better. He knows that you always need “convincing,” and he knows exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands, and it drives you _mad._

“I already let you this morning,” you grit out between your teeth, ignoring his transparent attempt at smalltalk. You wouldn’t like this any better if he just outright asked you for it, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t annoyed by him beating around the bush.

He chuckles, voice deep and smooth near your ear, and you’re fairly certain that if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees would have given out underneath you.

“Can’t help it, babe,” he croons against your neck, pressing a feather-light kiss to your skin and drawing a sharp breath from you. “Just can’t get enough of you, is all.”

He keeps his lips pressed to the spot, and your fist clenches at your side. You know all too well that the tenderness in his kiss belies sharp fangs, but he’s quickly melting away your resolve. Of course he is. He always does.

“Just so svweet,” he goes on, as if you weren’t already feeling weak enough. “My favworite color, ya know. So beautiful...”

You can practically feel the low vibrations of his drawling words in his chest, as he continues to torment you like this with his sweet-talking, all the while keeping his lips pressed against you. By now, his hands have moved lower, reaching underneath your shirt to smooth up and down your sides. His ministrations make you want to groan in frustration, because you know he’s going to get his way again.

“Fine,” you force out your assent curtly, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity intact. You don’t bother to turn your head to face him, because you can literally feel his smirk widening against you. You brace yourself for it, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. You’re confused, however, when you feel your tormentor pull away from your side, his hands lifting from your body.

Before you can even open your eyes to question him, Cronus has moved to the front of the couch. He’s looking down at you with a predatory grin that makes you squirm, when he abruptly takes hold of your hand. You yelp when he drags you quickly to your feet, yanking your body against his chest. You avoid his eyes with an irritable scowl, a faint red dusting your cheeks.

You want to command him to just get on with it already, but he seems fully intent on dragging this out, despite his proclaimed desperation. You nearly roll your eyes when a cool hand cups your cheek, but you allow him to lean in and press a gentle kiss to your lips regardless.

“You’re the best, lovwe,” he murmurs softly to you, his lips just barely pulling away.

You say nothing to him in response, still indignant at his lack of self-control. Though you’re hardly one to talk at this point. When he finally pulls back, he twists you in his grip, his hands moving to your hips to pull your back firmly against his chest. One of his hands slides up to your waist, clutching at it almost possessively, while the other wraps itself securely around your shoulder, and you can hardly remember feeling more vulnerable than this.

He drags his tongue up the side of your neck, and the sound he draws out of you is absolutely _disgusting_ to your own ears. You're melting in his hands when he all but growls in return, and gives a tentative nip, not yet breaking the well-abused skin.

You draw in a harsh breath, your hands grabbing at nothing when he actually does bite you. You grit your teeth, scrunching your eyes closed as you try not to jerk away from the pain.

It hurts. Of course it does, he’s biting into your neck, for hell’s sake. No, despite his sensual buildups and his sincerest attempts to be gentle, the actual act of having your blood drawn out of you is never what you would call a pleasant experience. Accompanying the initial stab of his fangs is the dull, aching pressure spreading into your bruising muscles, protesting loudly from the blood being robbed of you. All the while, Cronus groans into the junction of your shoulder, the hand at your waist tracing up and down your side as he drinks.

You wish you could say it was over before you knew it, but this process always feels like it takes far too long for your tastes. Regardless, you force yourself to remain as still as possible, moving a hand up to gingerly rest over the cool one clutching your shoulder.

He pulls away slowly, reminding you of your flushed quadrant with his cautious attempts to prevent you from suffering anymore pains. Really, despite how much he aggravates you at times like this, you don’t think you could let anyone do this to you if you didn’t truly love them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him, eyes half lidded, almost glazed over in his evident bliss. You can’t imagine what this feels like on the other end, though with his constant insistence, it must be quite the experience. You can feel his heavy breaths against your now aching neck, and you cringe at the sight of the garish red dripping from his teeth.

He smiles, warm and sincere this time, rather than an attempt at a seductive grin, and wraps his arms around your waist. “Lovwe you so much, Kanny,” he murmurs, nuzzling your freshly bitten skin. You can hear the faint rumble of a content purr erupting in his chest, as he holds you against him. You’re slightly slumped in his arms, now, a familiar lightheadedness beginning to overtake you. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were already dead, you might have questioned the dangers of allowing him to do this so often.

“I hope you’re satisfied….” Your attempt to sound scathing comes out more exasperated in your fatigue, but Cronus just chuckles into your shoulder regardless. He turns you around to face him, more slowly this time in consideration of your dizziness. He leans in to peck the corner of your mouth, and you’re thankful that he always remembers not to kiss you while your blood is fresh on his lips.

“Let’s get you off your feet, yeah?” He mutters softly to you, hands settling against your hips.

“Heh,” you scoff quietly, leaning forward to brace yourself against his chest. What a remarkable change in behavior.

He takes a step backwards, pulling you with him to sit down on the couch, where your foggy mind remembers that you were only just sitting mere moments ago. Your head is reeling slightly from movements, as his arms maneuver you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“There vwe go,” he’s speaking so gently to you now, and you can never get over the contrast in his mannerisms. How he goes from devious and seductive to fawning over you like this, you don’t think you’ll ever understand. Though the fact that you’re barely able to stand might have something to do with it. “Howv’s my Kanny doin’?”

“I’ve been better, thanks,” you quip sarcastically at him, though your edge is completely lost in your lethargy. He still chuckles quietly anyway, nuzzling his face into your hair. You sigh to yourself, relaxing into his arms.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he promises, voice soft as his hands smooth themselves over your back. Really, you would prefer he didn’t, as that usually means his overbearing attempts at ‘pampering,’ which you would rather do without, especially after you’ve been rendered in a state like this. You rarely ever voice these feelings, however, because something about the gesture strikes you as too sweet for you to admit.

“I’m sure you will, Cronus,” you breathe, exasperated, as you press yourself closer to him. “I am sure you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was quite an experience to write. It's a bit different from what I'm used to doing, but I'm glad that I gave it a shot.


End file.
